


(Not A) Cinderella Story

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 06:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Prompt:Cinderella same age AU, where Harry is the prince and Tom is the ball attendee.





	(Not A) Cinderella Story

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [October_Flash_Fest_Part_One](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/October_Flash_Fest_Part_One) collection. 

> MILD TRIGGER WARNING! MENTIONS OF RAPE. PLEASE DON'T READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU.
> 
> No beta. Let's all die together in this pool of randomness.

Tom pulls at the collar of his dark blue robes nervously and glances around the crowded hall. He didn’t want to be here, he really, really didn’t.

_ Not here, not now, not like this. _

But here he is and here he has to stay till midnight because that’s how that batshit insane warlock cursed him.

“Presenting, His Royal Majesty King James Potter,” came the announcement, bringing Tom out of his thoughts.

Glancing up, he sees the King enter and his best friend, Duke Sirius Black breaks all protocol to swagger upto the man and start talking to him mid-walk. Right there, on the carpet.

Tom feels a headache coming on as the room stays awkwardly divided into two halves, waiting for the King to cross the room and proclaim the ball open. While the King just stops there in the middle for a bloody_ gossip session _.

“Why is this my life?” He murmurs under his breath. 

There he was, minding his own business, cleaning the storage, making an inventory and dreaming. It was a pretty good dream too, about the day he will finally off his old man, present his blood test and take over the bastard’s throne. 

Then suddenly, a bloody warlock in an orange pin-striped suit and neon yellow robe comes in. He forces an invite to the royal ball in Tom’s hands, transfigures his uniform into an elegant suit with_ hideous _ colors and tells him, “You must stay until 11:59 and return before 12 midnight.”

Because really, just because he’s a live-in butler at the palace doesn’t mean he can leave the ball and get back to his rooms in _ one bloody minute!! _

Thank goodness the warlock, who is apparently named Albus Dumbledore, didn’t drop him in the middle of the hall with that eyesore suit. Tom had to sneak off to a corner and transfigure his clothes to an acceptable color.

“I know, right?” Came the unexpected answer to his hypothetical question. Tom startles because _ holy shit _, when did this hot, masked stranger move next to him? Tom would have noticed this guy from across the street with eyes closed.

Messy black hair, eyes the color of Tom’s favorite curse, tanned skin and a quiet defiance in his posture that draws attention.

“I am here because I am _ cursed _ . Why is being here so painful for _ you _?” he asks, turning to face this stranger and ignoring the strange sight of Sirius Black literally dragging King James across the floor by his cape.

“My godfather wants me to hook up tonight and bring home a girl. I am gay,” the guy replies bluntly. 

“My condolences,” Tom demures and the guy snorts.

“No need. I do intend to hook up tonight - ” there is mischief alight in those green eyes as the guy continues “- and bring home a _ guy _.”

Defiance, indeed. The looks do suit the inner package.

“Pass on my condolences to your godfather then,” Tom shoots back and is rewarded by a blinding smile.

“Harry Evans,” the guy offers his hand and asks curiously, “Are you really cursed to be here?”

“Tom Riddle,” Tom shakes the offered hand, and holds onto it. “Yes, I am really, literally, cursed to be here.” Turning over the hand in his grip, he bends down and kisses the back. Tanned skin is warm and calloused under his skin, a stark contrast against his own pale and smooth hand. 

Tom’s kiss presses just a moment longer than appropriate and even after standing back up, the hand is still held softly in his own. He rubs soothingly, suggestively, across the pulse point of his captive limb and smiles.

“It is looking to be less of a curse and more of a blessing right now,” Tom says and Harry’s resulting blush is a pretty sight to behold.

“Oh? Is that so?” Harry takes a step closer, trying to appear confident. It fails utterly, because those red cheeks really aren’t fooling anyone, least of all Tom. Still, the man takes a deep breath, and asks, “You won’t mind dancing then?”

“Dan-dancing?” Tom falters and thinks it over. Does he really want to dance? “Yeah, no thanks.”

Hot guy or not, Tom is _ not _going to put his dignity on the line for proving a point.

Harry's disappointed expression makes him reconsider. 

“Not here at least,” he concedes. 

“Thank goodness,” Harry relaxes further and pulls him out of the crowd using their still conjoined hands. “Let’s get out of here then. This is stifling.”

“So many people, all pressed together, smelly and sweaty and -” Tom shudders at the end, unable to find a proper word.

“Their eyes, the hungry gaze, the expectations -” Harry shudders as well and they both exchange a horrified look.

Thankfully, they have reached a balcony and seclude themselves away just in time, for the music starts playing as soon as the curtains swing close behind them.

They lean against the railing, high from their escape and enjoy the momentary peace.

"Dance here?" Harry asks, eyes bright with excitement. 

Tom gives in, and bows, offering a hand. 

"Will you do me the honor of accompanying me for a dance?" 

"I will," Harry smiles and takes the offered hand. 

Tom pulls him close, one hand at Harry's waist, the other holding their entwined hands. 

Slowly, under the starlight, they sway to the music, relaxed in the other's company. 

Harry is an active sort though, and it doesn't take long for him to break the silence and ask a question. 

“So, cursed?” Harry asks again and Tom sighs.

“There I was, minding my own work, when this senile, old warlock by the name of Albus Dumbledore hands me an invite, puts me into a hideous robe and cursed me to stay here till 11:59 but leave by 12,” Tom summarizes.

“Ouch,” Harry winces. “Tough. The hall’s pretty big. There’s at least 5 minutes of walk between any 2 corners. What will happen if you don’t leave before 12? Wait, what will happen if you leave _ before _ 11:59?”

Ah, a man who understands the intricacies of loopholes. Unfortunately -

“I just end up back here, smack dab in the middle of the ball room.” Tom shakes his head. “I wonder if the same will happen if I don’t leave before 12, but in the opposite direction. Will I end up back inside that store room at 12 on the dot?”

“We can try,” Harry offers. “Stay here till after 12. We can experiment. And if you’re still here, we can have that hook up and you can help give my godfather an aneurysm.”

“Naughty, naughty,” Tom teases and dips Harry without any warning. “Want to use me to kill your godfather? Is it plain spite or is some inheritance involved?”

“Spite,” Harry laughs as he's pulled back up. “Help me shock my godfather and I will owe you a favor.”

“Done.” Tom declares imperiously. “Only if you help me kill my old man in return.”

“Who’s the naughty one now?” Harry grins. “What’s your old man done to deserve such murderous intentions?”

It is here Tom realizes that Harry thinks he is joking. But Tom is _ not _.

“My mum raped him so he dumped her. I was born in an orphanage. And then when I went back to ask for help as a bastard son, he refused, and threw me out of the country. Refused to even give me my mother’s inheritance,” Tom states bluntly.

Harry winces again, sorrow crossing his face before determination makes itself known.

“But you are still here. You win.” 

“My father's at the neighboring country,” Tom points out.

“So, illegal entry, espionage and murder?” Harry asks. “Too much to ask for in a first date, don’t you think?”

“Is this a date?” Tom counters and Harry frowns in thought.

"We are spending time alone, dancing together and talking about about our personal lives. So yes, this is a date. ” Harry replies and shakes his head. “Why haven’t you gone back then? He may throw you out, but he can’t _ keep _ you out.”

Tom wonders how much he can disclose and how he can ensure their tentative, newly formed relationship survives the information reveal.

_ Blackmail it is. _

“My old man’s the king,” Tom says, looking straight in green eyes.

“What?!” Harry’s eyes widen in shock, and Tom thinks he has never seen him look more adorable. “You are the bastard son of Thomas Riddle-Gaunt?”

“The one and only. Literally and figuratively. That throne was my great grandfather’s. My uncle was the Heir and mother second. But Uncle died, mum married father and had me, then went and got herself indicted in a crime, father usurped the throne and I want it back.”

And that there is Tom’s life story in three sentences.

The shocked silence between them stretches for a long while, before Harry moves. Warm arms embrace him, and Harry’s head rests against his shoulder.

“You will get it back,” Harry promises and Tom feels all tingly inside. Warmth, shock, and mild adoration rests heavy in his stomach and pulses in his veins.

Tom raises his own trembling arms, holding the other tightly, closer to himself.

“I was only joking, you know.” Tom lies. “You don’t have to help me commit murder.”

Harry’s arms tighten in response. Words are breathed gently against his neck.

“I will not help you commit murder. But Tom, I will get you justice.”

The rush this time is stronger. _ Euphoric _.

Tom doesn’t dare break this moment, this victory, and enjoys the feel of his most important person in his arms.

Harry, of course, has no such compunctions.

“Why did you tell me, Tom? Why _ me _?”

Ah, Tom knew this guy was a Prince for a reason.

“Because I trust you, Harry,” Tom says gently. “I work at the palace. You have always interested me, Harry. So shy, so brave, so intelligent, so stupid, so diligent. You are a curious creature, Harry Potter. But you are honest and I trust you.”

And Harry might not be aware, but coming from Tom, that was practically a confession of love. Trust is not something he has ever given to anyone else before.

Harry tenses in his hold at the reveal of his identity. But with every word spoken, he relaxes, till Tom is left with an armful of relaxed, contemplative Prince not even attempting to move away from his hold.

Behind them, a clock chimes. 

Once, twice, thrice.

“You knew who I was.”

Four. Five. Six.

“Were you planning to blackmail me into helping you?”

Seven. Eight. Nine.

“But you were not lying when you said you trust me.”

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

“I will help you, Tom.”

Harry raises his head to look in Tom’s eyes, Avada Kedvara eyes alight with determination and trust.

“So, you better help me too.”

Tom feels his heart break as he hears Harry’s words. So after all this talk, was the help really going to be a standard exchange?

“What do you want in return?” Tom asks, words painfully quiet.

“I already told you,” Harry’s arms come up from around him and cup his cheeks.

“Come home with me tomorrow.”

Hope is a painful mistress as it flutters in his chest, drinking in each word as its Elixir of Life.

**Author's Note:**

> Tom is not sympathetic towards his father's plight. This fits in with canon where Voldemort thinks his mother weak and father a dirty muggle while here, Tom doesn't sympathize because he thinks the throne is his right and Tom Sr literally threw him out of his birth country and kept him suppressed deliberately in an orphanage.
> 
> Whether Tom genuinely has feelings for Harry, or whether seducing Harry was always his plan is upto the reader. It's left ambiguous on purpose.


End file.
